The Joker's Game
by 4ever-write
Summary: -Roy had put on a Batman costume to help victims of child abuse. The rest of this was never supposed to happen. -Kelly shouldn't have gone to that party. Now she knows she will never see her family again. She only hopes he'll be merciful enough to kill her quickly. A comic book character is all it takes to change lives-most of them for the much worse. *Rated M for graphic violence
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **Hey, everybody. The description should be more or less enough, but I thought I'd throw in a couple of barely necessary thoughts. Firstly, though there may be a few sexual references, the rating is mostly because I'm going to go very in-depth with torture later on. (Spoilers! :3) Otherwise, I just thought I'd let you know that this isn't the Batman you've come to know and love-but hopefully you'll still like this story! I have a pretty good idea on where I'm going, but suggestions and ideas are ALWAYS welcome! Thanks for reading my boring writer's rant if you've made it this far. I'll shut up now-promise. :)

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><p><strong>Roy<strong>

The day started out wonderfully. Roy had the day off, and his wife—still breathtakingly gorgeous at sixty-four—had a steaming pot of coffee and her homemade cinnamon rolls ready for him when he woke up.

"I don't deserve you," he told Emma as he sat down. She smiled warmly and pointed at the morning paper, which lay on the table.

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she said. "If anything, _I_ am the lucky one."

"Lucky?" Roy grinned. "For what? A retired cop who can't give you kids?"

Emma chuckled and threw her hands up in defeat. She knew that he knew that she'd never particularly wanted children in the first place, but this debate about who deserved who was their favorite inside joke. Roy, feeling a childish victory overtake him as he realized he'd won, looked at the news article his wife had been pointing at.

The story was about him. Roy, that is. The headline read:

"BATMAN HELPS VICTIMS OF ABUSE"

Roy couldn't help but smile. He'd originally thought of the idea when Emma had seen how retirement bored her husband, and she'd suggested he ride occasionally ride along with the boys on the force, for old times' sake. So he'd talked to his former partner, Aaron, who'd mentioned a new program the commissioner Jacob Anderson had been considering.

The plan was to bring a civilian—one with adequate police experience, for liability reasons, of course—when cops were needed to pull a child out of a dangerous situation, especially ones involving domestic violence. This person could help the kids know that they were safe, that the police were the good guys. After a few trial-and-error outings with this program, Roy had realized that the younger children appreciated someone they were familiar with: In this case, a comic book character.

Batman had always been Roy's favorite hero. He had amazing gadgets, great villains, and he could save his city _without_ super powers. Batman was the whole reason why Roy, when he'd been a young boy, had originally started to be interested in police work; after he realized that vigilante work was unfeasible, the life of a cop had seemed like the next best thing.

Since Hollywood couldn't go more than a few years without making another Bat film, the kids of today could easily relate to this hero. The job was easy enough on Roy's arthritic joints, but it carried a heavy weight emotionally. Seeing broken and disheartened children was a horrible experience as a cop, but at least he hadn't had to hear them open up all of their emotional baggage; back then, he'd been able to hand over a traumatized child to a social worker. It was still a tough situation, but it helped to distance himself from the victim.

Now, Roby had to open his heart to crying, terrified children—or worse, little kids with on emotion whatsoever in their eyes. The ones who had already lost hope at such a young age. That was enough to break anyone's heart.

Still, as painful as it could be, the job was worth it. Many kids, especially the really young ones, clung to batman like their lives depended on it. He was their hero, and one they desperately needed. For all the heartbreak, there were children whose eyes lit up like Christmas trees when a real live superhero came over to comfort them in the midst of chaos.

Roy was surprised that his story of helping kids was in the newspaper, though perhaps in this digital age he shouldn't have been surprised at how quickly word traveled. A few short weeks and already his face was plastered across the front page; and who knew if it had been in the back pages of other newspapers before now as well?

This train of thought was derailed when Roy's cell phone rang. It was Aaron, his former partner on the force. Emma, walking over to see the caller I.D. out of pure curiosity, frowned.

"That's funny," she said. "Usually when Aaron has something to say, he shoots you an email."

"Hmm," Roy replied as he picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"You've gotta get down to the station."

"Hello to you, too."

"Roy!" he barked. "This isn't a game."

The man would have sounded angry to anyone else, but Roy knew that this tone was the product of stress and fear.

"Aaron? What's wrong?"

The wrinkles on Emma's forehead deepened with concern. She'd thought that when her husband had retired, she would be rid of the constant lurking fear that one day he might go to work and never come home.

"Listen, Roy," Aaron was continuing into Roy's ear. "Everything's going crazy. We've got a full-fledged psycho on our hands, and we need your help."

"My help?" Roy had never heard of circumstances where a former officer had to be called in for a consultation on a case. "What for?"

"I can't tell you much. Anderson's orders. Just get here."

Aaron hung up without even saying goodbye, which worried Roy as much as the man's panicked tone. What could possibly be happening?

"Emma, honey, I have to go down to the station," Roy said. His wife's eyes grew wide in alarm.

"But why? What's happening?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Aaron said they needed my help looking at a case. I have no idea why that would be…but I'm sure everything is fine," he added at the fear plain on Emma's face. "They probably are just justified in calling me because I've been doing field work for them recently. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"Of course," Emma did her best to smile. "Just call me when you're done, alright?"

"Absolutely." Roy grabbed his wife's hand in both of his and kissed it. "I love you."

She nodded. "I love you, too. Now go save the world."

Roy chuckled slightly and stood up. After a quick debacle with finding his car keys—eventually Emma found them right on the counter—the ride to the station was rather uneventful. A carload of texting teenagers nearly ran him off the road, but that was becoming despairingly normal these days. Roy just rolled his eyes and pulled into the parking lot.

As soon as he went inside, he knew something was wrong. He could practically feel the tension in the air. The officers who recognized Roy avoided his questioning gaze as if he had yet to learn that he was terminally ill. Even Aaron, who at least made eye contact when Roy entered the conference room, said nothing. The look on his face, however, spoke volumes to the apparent gravity of the situation.

The room was full of uniformed officers, and as soon as Roy entered the commissioner began speaking; apparently, everyone had been waiting on him.

"Alright, people," started Commissioner Anderson. "Most of you are aware of a very startling murder last week."

He clicked a mouse, and the projector screen at the front of the room lit up with a horribly gruesome image. A dead man, with ethnic-looking skin and hair just beginning to gray, appeared relatively normal except for two bloody gashes on his face. His cheeks had been sliced open, from his mouth to his ears. If Roy didn't know any better, he would have said that it looked like something the Joker might do.

Anderson continued, "For the past week the trail has been getting cold. We've had nothing to go on, until last night."

Another body, this one a Caucasian, middle-aged female with the exact same facial disfigurement, appeared on the screen.

"This body," the commissioner elaborated, "turned up last night on the corner of 87th and Main. There was a note in the right jacket pocket, which read the following message:

_"__The Bat wants to come out and play. But we all know that the universe is nothing if not balanced. When good rises up, evil must come out and equalize it. You say I'm unfair to kill innocent people? I say it's unfair to upset the balance of nature without resetting it."_

As Anderson spoke, Roy felt nauseous. This was impossible. Just because he'd been dressing up, helping out a few kids, didn't mean that there was a real-life Joker. This was a dream; it had to be! In what world were there people crazy enough to murder over something like this?

"Listen carefully." The commissioner's voice crashed through Roy's thoughts like a tidal wave. "We've dealt with our share of crazies in this department, but this is a whole new level of unacceptable. It is clear that this psychopath is directly calling out one of our own—Roy Hamilton, who has been dressing as Batman to help victims of child abuse."

At that point, Roy wished Anderson would stop talking. He didn't want to be dragged into this. He'd rather just pretend it was an elaborate practical joke.

"We, of course, stand by our own officers, and even though Roy is retired he is going to have twenty-four hour protection around his house until we catch this guy. As of right now we don't have any clues as to what we'll be looking for, but it is a safe bet that someone this deranged will be dressing up like the comic book character he seems to be imitating.

"As soon as we have more information, we will let all of you know. For now, though, get back to work."

The cops in the room dispersed until three men were left: Commissioner Anderson, Aaron, and Roy.

"Jacob," Roy said, throwing away the formalities. "Jacob, what does this guy want? How-how did this happen?"

"This isn't your fault," Aaron said, forcefully answering the question despite it being directed at another. "You were just trying to be a good person. It's not your fault that some sociopath decided that he needed to cosplay!"

"Thank you, Aaron." The commissioner's pointed look shut him up. "Listen, Roy, clearly we aren't going to involve you in this if we can't help it, but I saw something like this when I was in Santa Barbara. There was this cop who had an unbelievable track record. I saw criminals who literally wet their pants when they heard he was on the case; he was that good.

"So this murderer learns our guy is tracking him, and instead of running for the hills like any sane person, he begins to play with our officer, sending him riddles carved into bodies and crazy stuff like that. Eventually we would up catching him, but it was an insane chase. And every time he learned our guy wasn't directly involved, he would get angry and set a bomb off in a public place.

"My point is: We will try to keep you out of this, but in the end, this is his game. We might not have any control over the rules."


	2. Chapter 2

**Kelly**

"Actually, Mom, I don't want to talk about it."

Kelly rolled her eyes as her mother went off on yet another long rant. Yes, Kelly was totally devastated that Ben had dumped her right before Valentine's Day, but she was not willing to have this discussion with the woman driving her to school. Their relationship was far too rocky for one of those cheesy heart-to-heart's you see in movies.

Thankfully, Kim called mid-rant, and Kelly's mom believed that neglecting phone calls was rude, so she pursed her lips and allowed her daughter to pick up the phone. Since the car was only about five minutes away from school at this point, there was no way she'd hang up in time to listen to a spiel on the importance of mother-daughter bonding _again_.

"What's up?" Kelly answered a little too cheerfully.

"Is your mom listening?" Kim asked.

"Oh, yeah!" Kelly chirped with false happiness so as to not tip off the topic of conversation.

"Do you need me to call back?"

"Not at all."

"Okay," Kim said knowingly. "So what you're saying is, you want me to stay on the phone until you get to school so you don't have to talk to her?"

"Sure thing!"

Kim laughed. "Alright, then. What can we talk about to keep the eagle clueless?" Kim was exactly the sort of person who would make up a code name like "the eagle."

"Beats me." Actually, Kelly had a few good ideas, but she couldn't think of a way to say any of them without tipping off her mom.

"Fine," huffed her friend. "Make me do all of the work. Fashion, boys, that awesome party we're going to tomorrow?"

"Definitely not the last one. Orange is totally not my color."

Kim knew Kelly well enough to interpret that last bit as, "I'll tell you when I'm not being listened to." Still, the comment reminded her of a recent shopping spree, and she launched into a funny story about a sales lady who couldn't read a label and accidently gave her an XXL dress to try on.

"Goodbye. Have fun at school," Kelly's mom shouted as the girl exited the van quickly. These days were the sort which really made her appreciate high school; she was able to get out of the house for a full seven hours of freedom.

Kim ambushed Kelly at her locker.

"Hey, girl!" she shouted right next to her friend's ear. Kelly winced and shot Kim a death glare, who took the look as a sign to say what she needed to say. "So what was up with your mom?"

"I think you mean, 'What was up with your mom _and Elliot_?" Kelly groaned.

"What happened this time?"

"I missed the bus this morning," Kelly explained, "but they didn't notice it. Anyway, I'm ripping a brush through my hair as I run into my mom's room, and they're getting ready to take a shower together!"

"Ew!" Kim sympathized. She knew all about Kelly's mom's weird dating habits. The woman had started looking for a boyfriend three years ago, four years after Kelly's dad had taken off, but all of the guys she picked up were freaks. They either had creepy fetishes, or were just excited to find a woman her age who still looked as hot as she did. Or both.

Elliot, thankfully, was at least pretty rich, so even though he'd moved in a month after they'd hooked up and took pictures of feet for a hobby, he made sure the bills were paid and the house got some much-needed renovations. Kelly felt like he should have bought her a car by now, but at least the running water was consistently warm.

"That's not even the worst part," Kelly continued. "I mean, it was nasty, but at least they still had their clothes on. But as my mom was driving me to school, she tried to make up for it by talking about Ben."

"Oh, no!"

"Yes. I know, right?"

Kelly and Ben had been dating for six months when he dumped her two weeks ago. On February twelfth. Two freaking days before Valentine's. And for literally no reason, to boot.

Kim, Kelly, and a few of their friends had met up that night at Kim's place for ice cream, crying, chick flicks, and throwing darts at a picture of Ben's face. Kelly had been relying on them and slowly getting over the breakup, but the last thing she needed was her man-eater mother to get involved.

"So, you wanna tell her that you have a science project and you need to come over to my house to work on it?" asked Kim. Kelly laughed.

"You rock. Yeah, I'll text her. Anyway, you said earlier something about wanting to talk about Gavin's party?"

"Ohmygoshyes!"

Kim was head-over-heels for Gavin Reichstag, a basketball player who was incredibly sweet but taken but a cheerleader up until about a month ago. Now he was fair game, and his parents were out of town for the weekend. So of course he was throwing a party, to which he'd personally invited Kim.

Kelly listened patiently as her friend babbled on and on about how excited she was for around thirty seconds. Then, when the excessive fervor began to die down, Kelly could get the occasional word in, so the conversation became two-sided.

"Do you know what you're going to wear yet?"

"No! That's the real reason I need you to come over tonight!"

"Oh," Kelly reasoned with a laugh. "It's not because I need to get away from my house or anything; it's really centered around your own selfish needs!"

"Obviously," Kim smirked. "You never learn, do you?"

"Apparently not. So do you at least have a few options in mind or am I going to have to scour your entire wardrobe?"

Kim winced playfully. "Maybe I shouldn't answer that."

"Kim!" Kelly groaned. "I swear, you are going to be the death of me!"

"Good. What are friends for?"

She was spared having to tell Kim to shut up when the first warning bell rang. Their first class on Thursday, which the girls luckily had together, was on the other side of the building and up a flight of stairs from Kelly's locker.

"So," Kim ventured as the pair took their seats at the back of the classroom; Professor Barns was running late today, so the room was full of loud teenagers getting in a last few moments of gossip before the long, tiresome school day officially started.

"Yeah?" Kelly responded lazily. She wasn't going to be rude enough to say it aloud, but she really wanted to utilize this pre-class free time to take a nap. She had slept in that morning for a reason, because she had been up late on a hot date with Netflix. Still, she'd be a good friend and listen to whatever Kim had to say.

"Have you even convinced your mom to let you go to the party? I mean, what good will coordinating outfits be if you don't even show up?"

Kelly sighed. "I'll be there. Just because my mother is freaking Godzilla doesn't mean that she can control my whole life. For the love of Pete, I'll be eighteen in a month! If I piss off the overlord just because I decide to sneak out for the first time in my life, then who cares?"

Kim squealed in delight.

"Kelly!" she giggled joyfully. "I'm so proud of you! My little rebel!"

"Yeah." She smirked at her excited friend. "I'm getting pretty sick of all the goody-two-shoes business. It's time the real Kelly comes out: Loud and vicious. I only have a few short months left of my senior year, and I'm going to take it by storm!"

The girls laughed and gave each other victory high-fives as the teacher walked in. After Barns managed to quiet down the room, he launched into some boring lecture about the Civil War or something. Kelly felt herself settle into School Day Mode. She took notes, barely stayed awake, and overall avoided negative attention until the end of the day.

She'd been supposed to ride the bus with Kim after school—a practice which was much less humiliating when there were _two_ seniors who didn't have their own cars instead of just one of them—but Kim had found herself a ride in Gavin's '67 Impala. His baby, which he'd spent countless hours restoring last year. The machine shop had been very, very kind to his already muscular frame, and Kim was sky high at the thought of receiving a ride from her gorgeous crush.

So Kelly decided to walk home. The weather was surprisingly nice for the end of February, and she could use a bit of exercise to shed those last remaining Christmastime calories. The sun was out, melting the stubborn patches of snow which still clung to the grass, which made the walk home not only bearable but pleasant. Kelly inhaled the sweet spring air, and felt more relaxed than she had all day.

A fair number of joggers were out, enjoying their first taste of good weather. With them were a few people who, like Kelly, were simply walking from Point A to Point B. Most of them wore lighter jackets for the first time in months, except for one man Kelly noticed.

He wore a thick trench coat and had a hat pulled low over his face, making his features indistinguishable. Kelly wasn't sure whether to sprint in the opposite direction or sarcastically applaud him for being brave enough to deal his drugs in broad daylight.

The sidewalk was rather narrow, so Kelly didn't think much of the way this stranger brushed against her as they crossed paths. Having grown up in the suburbs, she didn't have much experience with pickpockets, and so she didn't notice the way he skillfully slipped her school I.D. out of its little panel on the side of her backpack. She certainly didn't turn around to watch as he carefully examined the picture, silently asking Fate if this one would be useful.

No, she didn't see him, but he saw her. And he would continue to keep an eye on her for later use in a battle which was only scarcely beginning.


End file.
